


Bye, Sam.

by Britt Kay (britwalkz)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: And angst, Claustrophobia, Hurt!Sam, Lots of Hurt, Suicide, Torture, Worried!Dean, guilty!dean, suicidal, suicidal!Sam, trigger - Freeform, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 21:51:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/britwalkz/pseuds/Britt%20Kay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam remembers his last conversation with Dean after he started the apocalypse, and decides to complete one last hunt, remove one last evil from the world. Lots of suicidal!Sam and hurt!Sam, and probably some guilty!Dean later on.<br/>{{Trigger warning; suicide attempt}}   --REWRITTEN--</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ch1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rewritten as of 3/12/14  
> "Always busy, keeping himself busy, because if he stopped, even for a minute, he would start to think. And if he started to think, he would realize just how disgusting and evil he really was."

Sam was lost. Literally. And metaphorically, but that’s not the current problem. He’d stolen an old junker in a quick attempt to leave town and move forward. He was trying to be optimistic. Well, as optimistic as the guy who started the apocalypse could get.

His plan had been to leave town, find a hunt, and help people, while trying to find a way to gank the devil. He’d finished a few hunts, leaving behind as many casualties as survivors. Always busy, keeping himself busy, because if he stopped, even for a minute, he would start to think. And if he started to think, he would realize just how disgusting and evil he really was.

So you can see how his current situation posed a problem.

Sam leaned against the rusty old pile of metal he’d stolen, urgently going through his phone. _Who could he call? De- nope no can’t go there._

“Fuck!” Sam shouted to the desolate endlessness of the desert before him. He, upon realizing he had no friends, also noticed that his phone didn’t have any bars. To make it even better, he was about to run out of battery.

Sam sighed and slid down the side of the car to sit on the ground. Raking his hand through his hair, he had nothing he could do. He knew nobody would drive by any time soon, he was on a part of the desert long abandoned. He also knew that it was 110 degrees Fahrenheit and he was without water.

 _I’m going to die._ Sam laughed aloud at the thought, because wasn’t it funny that a monster like him would die not at the hands of another monster, but that of mother nature? Bringing his knees to his chest, Sam rested his head, already feeling the effects of heat exposure.

He was going to die, and there was nothing he could do. Nothing he could do. Nothing…

Sam got up and opened the door to the car. He got in and sat down, opening the other door as well, to let air flow through. He sat there, trying to get some kind of shelter from his car. And that’s when they came.

**_So, you're his vessel, huh? Lucifer's wearing you to the prom?_**

“No no no nono –“ Sam muttered to himself. He couldn’t think of that in his dying moments. He couldn’t think of all the things he’d lost, no- ruined. His family, friends, and worst of all, his relationship with Dean.

That’s when Sam realized, it didn’t matter. He deserved to long for all that he lost, leaving him miserable through to his death.

He allowed himself to remember what would now be his last conversation with his big brother.

**_You know, on that basis alone, we should just pick a hemisphere. Stay away from each other for good._**

While his brother’s words had hurt, he knew that he deserved them, and much worse. It still cut him to the core to realize that Dean, his best friend, his brother, did not want him around. That he’d given up on Sam, as well. Sam didn’t blame him though; he hadn’t given Dean anything to work with, to fix. He’d just ruined every little drop of brotherhood they had. Dean was gone. He wasn’t going to come back and save Sam this time.

For the first time since the phone call, Sam realized the depth of his situation. It became real, all coming at him at once, and he couldn’t take it. He knew that he was a monster, he had no chance of redemption, and for that he deserved to be punished. He deserved to die a painful death, not a peaceful, gentle one.

Sam reached into the back seat and grabbed his duffel, rummaging through it until he found what he needed. He pulled out his knife and his gun. He laid the gun down on his leg for easy access, and took the knife in his hand, regarding it closely. He wished he could have used Ruby’s demon killing knife for this, but that was God knows where.

Sam was new to the whole self-torture thing, so he wasn’t quite sure where to start. In the end he decided to cut across the length of his arms, slowly and painfully.

He took the knife in his hand, bringing it closer to his skin. He almost faltered, but then he remembered the look on Dean’s face when he looked at Sam, and was renewed with a sudden determination. He took the tip of the knife and started cutting. The pain was like a fire spreading through his arms as the knife moved. The pain was almost too much, he almost wanted just do it. But he knew what he deserved, and since the universe didn’t have time to give it to him, he had to do it himself. He slashed through his other arm with a little bit more speed, anticipation rising. As he finished both arms, he noticed the blood. He wondered how much of that was human.

He shook his head, and, arms shaking, sloppily turned the knife toward himself. He squeezed his eyes shut and let his hands guide the knife to his stomach, and with as much strength as he could muster, stabbed himself. He let out a startled gasp, hands falling away from the knife, unable to hold on any longer. His plan had been to fatally shoot himself once he had finished the self-mutilation,  but he couldn’t convince his arms to move. He didn’t mind, though, because his vision was already going spotty and he felt himself slowly slipping away. He let his torso fall forward, unable to sit up. The fall jostled the knife, which was still inside him, a bit, but Sam was almost gone; he didn’t feel it.

_**Bye, Sam.**_

_G’bye, Dean._

And with that, he was gone.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo let me know what you think! I really want to improve my writing so tell me anything you think. It's hard for me to look at my writing as a reader so I need you guys to let me know what I'm doing right/wrong.  
> I love you all! <3  
> -Britt


	2. Ch 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dean was hurt. He’d given everything, literally, for the kid and how does he thank him? Sam starts the fucking Apocalypse and runs, leaving Dean to clean up his mess."

After the whole trip to the future fiasco, Dean had made it his goal to have Sam come back in an attempt to change the horrible future he’d witnessed. So when he returned to his meeting spot with Castiel, who was still standing there awkwardly, he called Sam.

Dean was a bit worried at Sam’s not answering the phone, but mostly annoyed. Dean just couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that, even after everything he had done for the kid, he still chose a goddamn demon over his own brother. It cut him to the core of his being, it broke him in ways nobody could even come close to understanding.

Sam had lied to his face, constantly. He’d ignored Dean’s warnings and what happened? He started the damn Apocalypse. The betrayal was so fresh in Dean’s mind that he subconsciously ignored his ‘big brother’ instincts and instead, got pissed.

_Okay, I see how it is. You expect me to drop everything and come save you from the demon you’ve become, yet won’t be bothered to answer a damn phone call?_

Dean shook his head, not allowing himself to get all worked up about it. Putting his phone back in his pocket, he turned to Castiel.

“Bastard didn’t answer.” He growled.

“Dean, do you not think that there is a reason that Sam would not be answering his phone?” Cas tried, knowing very well that Dean would not be open to discussing his younger brother’s reasoning.

“Sure, Cas.” Dean smiled sarcastically, “I bet it’s the same reason he had for trusting Ruby over me! Ooh and let’s not forget the whole apocalypse thing he started. Maybe, this whole time, he’s has the same damn reason! I just can’t seem to figure out what the fucking reason was.”

Cas sadly nodded, as he knew there was nothing he could do for the estranged younger brother. He then said his goodbye to Dean and went off to do a bit of investigating.

After Dean left Castiel, he’d driven ho- to the motel (not home, never home) and found himself looking for a hunt. It was probably a good idea for him to let out his anger on something evil instead of the next person to look at him wrong.

So Dean spent the night looking through newspapers, looking for any signs of demonic activity. He could find nothing, which he found odd, considering the fact that they’re in the middle of the Apocalypse. He then realized that he was never the one to, in fact, do the research, so he had no clue what to look for.

He threw down the newspaper he’d been holding onto the floor, frustrated. He was about to stand up when he noticed something. He picked up the newspaper and held it open to the page he’d seen.

‘Mysterious Disappearances Leave Small Arizona Town in Panic’ read the title. Dean didn’t take the time to read the rest of the article, as he knew this was their – his – kind of thing. He took a look at the clock, which read ‘8:29p’. He wasn’t too far from Arizona, and could probably make it by morning.

After packing up the few belongings that he’d taken out of his bag, he tore out the article from the newspaper and rushed out to the Impala. He unconsciously threw his duffel on to the passenger side seat, because it shouldn’t be empty. Not that he would ever consciously admit to that.

He turned out of the motel parking lot, and with his music blasting, he made his way toward Kitsley, Arizona.

\--

Dean made it to Kitsley around 10am the next day. He didn’t bother getting a motel yet, not knowing how long the hunt would take. If it was even a hunt. He parked outside the local diner, looking around the bare landscape surrounding the town. There was absolutely nothing for miles, except the one road connecting it to civilization, near the small town.

Dean had done some research on his phone, and decided to go talk to the police investigator on the case. He, Paul Fankley – FBI Agent, didn’t need to drive to get to the police office, it was only about a block away. So he walked. He, however, had forgotten about the effects of heat.

By the time he reached the PO, he was sweating profusely and exhausted. He leaned against the outside of the building and tried to catch his breath.

_Sam would’ve remem- no._

Dean tried to clear his mind of thoughts of his brother, but of course it had the opposite effect.

Dean was hurt. He’d given everything, _literally,_ for the kid and how does he thank him? Sam starts the fucking Apocalypse and runs, leaving Dean to clean up his mess.

Dean could understand him being tricked into working with a demon while he was in Hell, because that situation would mess a guy up a bit, but Dean was back and Sam still didn’t stop working with that bitch. Instead, he got sneaky. He would sneak out late at night when he thought Dean was asleep (he wasn’t) to meet up with her.

While Sam should have known better, Ruby had months to manipulate him into thinking he was doing the ‘right thing’, and by the time Dean came back, it was just too late.

When Sam left, Dean felt relief, but there was also a sense of failure and loss. He had practically raised the kid, and now he was giving up on him. Because, in Dean’s eyes, he couldn’t be saved, he couldn’t be forgiven.

Dean was startled out of his thoughts when a gruff voice spoke beside him. “Son, are you alright?”

Dean laughed. He was far from ‘alright’, but to spare the poor man hearing Dean’s whole life story, he replied, “Yes, sir.” He noticed the badge on the man’s jacket. “Do you happen to know who’s in charge of the missing persons cases? FBI sent me out here to check things out.” Dean fumbled in his pocket to get the fake badge out. He held it up in front of him.

The officer gave the badge a check, and motioned for Dean to follow him inside. They went inside, and Dean was more than happy to follow the man into his office, because there was an air conditioner inside.

The officer sat at his desk and Dean sat at the chair in front. “I’m David Belkin, lead investigator for the recent missing persons cases. Can you tell me why the FBI is getting involved when the problem has been fixed? The killer is gone.”

“What do you mean? How can the killer just be _gone_?” Dean questioned.

“Can I tell you something, under the radar?” Belkin asked, and when Dean nodded, he continued. “Killer wasn’t exactly… human. Some sort of ‘demon’ or something. Honestly, I was never a believer, but after witnessing that brave young man kill it, I sure am now.”

Dean interrupted at this point. “Young man? Who was it? Did he tell you his name?”

“Sure. His name was Dan Smith. Odd last name.”

“What did he look like?” Dean had a sinking feeling that Sam was the ‘brave young man’.

“Long, shaggy brown hair, tall, skinny as hell. I mean that boy was SKINNY. It looked like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.”

_Oh shit._

Dean cursed inwardly at the officer’s response, as the man he described was definitely Sam. But Sam wasn’t that skinny, he always had muscle mass and whatnot. He could never be described as a twig.

“What did he do?” Dean asked, praying to a God he didn’t believe in that Sam wasn’t using his powers. Dean didn’t want to have to be the one to stop him.

“Well, he ran up to the two men I was about to arrest from behind, just as they tried to attack me. He bashed their heads together and when they hit the ground, he started chanting some Latin exorcism. I don’t think he noticed the third thug sneaking up behind him, either that or he didn’t care. Bastard stabbed Dan pretty bad – he coded twice at the hospital – but he had just finished the chant and this black mist or something poured out of the three men’s mouths, and they fell to the ground. I honestly do not understand how that boy survived. With a stab wound right on the spine, I thought he was dead before the ambulance arrived.”

Dean froze. Sam wasn’t dead, he couldn’t be dead. They hadn’t had time to fix things. He shakily asked, “How is he? Is he here?”

“He left AMA a yesterday, meaning he spent a total of 2 days in the hospital for a seemingly fatal stab wound. Kid wasn’t looking very good, honestly.” Officer Belkin replied, his voice portraying his concern.

“Where did he go?” Dean was sure that if he found Sam, he’d make things right. They would be brothers again. He couldn’t lose him.

“Took the backway out of town, dunno where he was goin’, as the road doesn’t lead anywhere. It’s a dead end after a few miles. Come to think of it, that is a bit odd..” David frowned, eyebrows furrowing.

“Where is it?” Dean’s request was almost a demand.

The officer gave Dean directions to the abandoned back road, and with a ‘thank you’, Dean rushed to the Impala, heat stroke be damned. The drive to the dirt road was short, about two minutes, though they felt like hours.

Looking down the lone road with nothing but sand in sight, he drove on. He had only driven about a mile and a half when he noticed something at the side of the road. A car. Oh shit, did Sam’s car break down? Why wasn’t he back at the town, if it had? Could he even make the mile and a half walk in all this heat?

Dean came to a stop beside the ramshackle junker, and put the Impala in park. He got out and moved closer to the other car. He hesitantly looked inside, not knowing what he could find.

Blood. Everywhere. It was all over the seat, floors, and steering wheel. Dean almost puked. This blood had to be his brother’s.

“Oh my god. Sammy?” he peered into the back of the car to find nothing but Sam’s unpacked duffel.

He carefully opened the door and retrieved the bag, spilling the contents of it on to the sandy road.

At first, all Dean saw was the essentials: clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, razor, etc. But upon closer inspection, he found a plastic baggie containing a piece of paper. Dean pulled the paper out, and took in a deep, shaky breath when he caught the first word on the page.

 

**Dean.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's pretty bad, I know. But I felt like writing and haven't updated for you guys in forever, so I decided to post it.  
> I love constructive criticism, and I'd love to hear what you're thinking is coming next.  
> Comments = Love
> 
> -Britt


End file.
